


For You to Notice Me

by atetheredmind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cheating, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Infidelity, Jon might be a bit of a fuckboy, Little Women AU kind of, Minor Khal Drogo/Daenerys Targaryen, Pining, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, and a bit of smut to boot, but he's still a lovable scamp, mentions of Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, not canon but not modern, past Jon Snow/Margaery Tyrell - Freeform, with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: Dany has been in love with Jon Snow since she was ten years old, but growing up, he only had eyes for her sister, Margaery—until she broke his heart and got engaged to his cousin, Robb.Four years after Dany left King's Landing to study abroad in Pentos, she and Jon meet again by happenstance. Thankfully, she's moved on. There's a new man in her life, and her unrequited childhood crush is just a thing of the past.Except, her feelings might not be entirely unrequited, after all.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 108
Kudos: 830





	For You to Notice Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jonerys Valentine's Week 2020, Day 1: Friends to Lovers. Loosely inspired by "Little Women." If you've seen the 2019 movie, you might recognize some scenes/dialogue. It's not a whole ass LW AU, just one specific plot point: Amy x Laurie, yes, sorry if you hate the pairing, but this is still very much Jonerys so it should be easy to ignore. This fic is not modern, but it's not set in canon times either. It takes place in some ambiguous time period in Westeros/Essos. Before phones and shit.
> 
> Warning: As the tags state, Drogo/Dany is a current relationship, and there is cheating that involves Jon and Dany. If that sounds like something that will upset you, maybe don't read on.
> 
> Thank you to aliciutza for beta'ing and making the gorgeous moodboard! I was so excited to include Dany in THAT dress.

* * *

The streets of Pentos were the last place Dany ever expected to see him again.

It was just a glimpse of unruly raven hair through the passing crowd, but even so she came to a dead stop in the middle of the street. It couldn’t be him—what would he be doing here, in Pentos of all places? Straining to see through the press of Pentoshi and tourists alike, she ignored their sharp rebukes as they swerved to avoid running into her.

There, another glimpse, and suddenly she was certain. She would recognize that hair anywhere.

Dany found herself moving again, quickening her step, muttering apologies to the people she ran into as she searched for more glimpses of his hair. Once she was in a clearing, she stopped to scan the street. Almost immediately, she spotted him again: Just a few paces ahead of her was Jon Snow, striding at a leisurely pace, all by himself in Pentos.

“Jon!” she called, her feet already carrying her in his direction again. Desperately, she raised her voice over the clamor of the afternoon rabble. “Jon!”

Thankfully, he heard her, turning around to pinpoint the source of his name. His brow furrowed, briefly, eyes darting around, until he saw her pushing through the crowd. The moment he saw her, his face split in a wide grin.

“Dany!”

Only steps away, she launched herself into his arms. Jon caught her in a hug and spun her around, laughing when she let out a delighted squeal. As she clung to his neck, she inhaled deeply. He smelled of tobacco and pine, just as she remembered, but different, somehow, as if his familiar scent had been faintly cured by the salt of the Narrow Sea. The rest of him was different, too, from the brush of his beard on her cheek, to the broad, muscled planes of his shoulders and chest. It was all new and alien to her. And impossibly exciting.

Embarrassed by her girlish display, Dany pulled away from him. At her resistance, he set her down, but he was grinning at her still, and she couldn’t help but return it.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, mystified. She hadn’t seen her old neighbor in four years, not since she’d left King’s Landing to attend university in Pentos, chaperoned by her grandmother, Olenna, who, conveniently, was also the one subsidizing her studies.

Jon shrugged, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “Just felt like getting away from Westeros for a while. It was getting a bit stale.”

Her face fell. Of course, he’d want to find somewhere remote to lick his wounds, after her sister Margaery’s very public engagement to his cousin, Robb. “Jon…” She struggled to find the words. “I’m so sorry. I know how you felt about Margaery. I was as surprised as anyone—”

But he shrugged off the rest of it. “It’s fine, Dany.” His smile didn’t quite meet his eyes, she noticed. “It was a while ago now. I’m over it.”

She doubted that, but she didn’t push him on it. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here in Pentos,” she said, more lightly.

His face brightened, finally. “Well, I got myself a job crewing on a cargo ship, _Titan’s Daughter._ We were in Braavos before, and Lorath before that, and now the captain has some business to do in Pentos. So, here I am.” He swept his arms out to his sides as if to demonstrate.

His explanation stunned her. “You? A sailor?”

Sheepish, he scratched at his beard. Suddenly, his scruffy appearance made sense. “Don’t act so surprised, Dany,” he said with a laugh, and she smiled.

“I’m not! Not really. You were always a hard worker. I just...I never pictured you as a sailor.” It clearly agreed with him, however; his skin was tanned nearly golden, his hair was slightly longer, the curls clearly wind-ravaged, and while it was the soft shade of black it’d always been, she could see the way the sun had lightened his hair in some places. He looked happy and carefree in a way she’d never known him to be back in King’s Landing.

Jon changed the subject. “And what about you? How are you?” At that, he gave her a longer, appraising look, his mouth curling up in an approving smile. “I can see that Pentos has certainly been kind to you.”

Dany froze, unsure how to take his words. In all her years of knowing him, he’d never once complimented her or noted her beauty. She was sure he’d never noted her _anything_ , period. Not with the beautiful Margaery always around. “I...guess so,” she said with a blush, tucking her hair behind her ear.

But Jon was still fixated on her attire, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.”

At that, she scowled, planting her hands on her hips. “I used to wear dresses all the time back home.”

He blinked, finally lifting his gaze to her face. “Really? They definitely didn’t look like this, then,” he said emphatically, gesturing to her.

Self-consciously, she glanced down at her dress. It was typical Pentosh garb, light-weight and revealing around her stomach, considering the warm climate. Speaking of, her face was now on fire. “This is no more revealing than the type of stuff Margaery used to wear,” she said, offended.

Seeming to hear the defensiveness in her tone, Jon held up his hands. “I only meant—you look good, Dany.” He smiled. “You look beautiful, actually.”

She swallowed hard, her heart suddenly thrashing inside her rib cage. She felt like a teenage girl all over again, where just one word or look from him could send her spiraling into a stupid daydream for the rest of the day.

She was a woman grown now, damn it all. She’d gotten over her girlhood crush _years_ ago.

“Thank you,” she said, then she glanced at her delicate wristwatch. “I have to get going.”

He frowned, taken aback. “Where to? Dany, I haven’t seen you in years, and you’re already running off.” He softened the words with a laugh, and she smiled apologetically.

“I’m sorry. Olenna is expecting me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That old bat?”

“That old bat is the reason I’m here,” she reminded him. “I have a dinner obligation tonight, and I need to speak with her before then, but—” Despite her better instincts, she hugged him again, relishing the contact, even if her crush was long gone by now. She was already moving away from him by the time he’d lifted his arms to return the embrace. “It was so good seeing you again.”

“Wait—maybe we can catch up later,” he suggested, holding onto her hand. She nodded.

“Sure—oh, you should come to dinner tonight,” she said suddenly. “It’s just a big party, really, and I’m sure Drogo won’t mind—”

“Drogo?” he interrupted, bewildered. “The Khal Drogo, you mean?”

She was surprised. “You know him?”

He snorted. “Of course. I know _of_ him, anyway. Everybody does. You’re friends with him?”

She flushed again. “I guess you could say that.” She debated saying more, then added hesitantly, “He’s been...courting me.”

Jon dropped her hand. “Courting you?” he repeated. She didn’t know why she felt so embarrassed.

“It’s complicated. I’ll explain later, but I really have to go. You’ll come tonight, though? It’s at the Magister’s Palace. Seven o’clock.”

He still seemed perplexed. “Am I even allowed into the Magister’s Palace?” he asked.

“Of course, just tell them you’re my guest. I’ll make sure they know to expect you. I’ll see you tonight?” she questioned hopefully, and he nodded, a distant look in his eyes. With another glance at her watch, she smiled at him once more, then carried on in the direction she’d been heading, almost at a run.

On her way, she placed a hand against her chest; her heart was racing, though she didn’t think it had much to do with her brisk pace. By the time she reached Olenna’s estate, she realized she was still smiling.

* * *

Jon didn’t show for dinner.

She didn’t know why it bothered her; it had been a last-minute invite, and he’d hardly seemed enthusiastic when he’d accepted. He probably already had other plans. She shouldn’t have expected him, not seriously. Still, she’d hoped to see him again.

She spent the whole evening preoccupied with thoughts of him, though she laughed on cue and answered questions when prompted. If Drogo noticed her inattention, he didn’t mention it. Mostly, she just stood at his side as he socialized, quietly sipping her wine, like some pretty little arm decoration.

Later, feigning exhaustion, she excused herself from the party; Drogo didn’t seem overly put out by her leaving early, engaged as he was in his discussion with the magister, Illyrio Mopatis. Instead of returning home to Olenna’s manse, Dany headed toward the harbor. It was dark now, and the only people out at that hour were mostly drunken revelers stumbling from tavern to tavern. She had to ask some of the dockworkers which ship was the _Titan's Daughter_ ; one man was helpful enough to point her to the correct slip. When she approached it, she was relieved to find someone on the deck despite the late hour.

“Excuse me,” she called up to him, and he peered over the side at her. “Is Jon belowdecks, by any chance?”

“Who?” he repeated, clueless.

“Jon Snow.”

“Ah. Don’t think so, miss. He’s probably at a tavern.”

Disappointed, she thanked him and turned to leave the harbor. As she was walking up the dock, she heard laughter in the distance and strained her eyes. Up ahead, a couple was stumbling in her direction, suggestively draped all over each other. As they got closer, her stomach sank. It was Jon, with a female companion—and judging by the way he touched her, she wasn’t just a friend.

Dany stopped in her tracks, waiting for them to reach her. Jon only seemed to notice her at the last moment, coming to a halt when he saw her. “Dany,” he said, removing his arm from around his companion’s shoulders. She continued to cling to his waist, however.

Dany’s eyes went from his face to his brown-haired companion, who was pouting prettily at him. They were drunk, she realized. “You didn’t come to dinner,” she pointed out needlessly.

Abashed, Jon raked a hand through his hair. “Ah, no. Sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think you were serious,” he said uncomfortably.

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she shook her head. “Never mind. Forget it. I hope you have a nice night, Jon.”

With that, she brushed past them. Jon sighed. “Dany, come on,” he called after her, turning away from his companion, but she ignored him. “Dany!”

She kept walking, increasing her pace, but he followed her. His companion yelled after him. “Hey! What about me?”

“I’m sure your husband is expecting you home, Tyanna,” he called back, then he was running to catch up with Dany. Finally intercepting her on the street, he grabbed her hand. “Dany, stop!”

She whipped around, suddenly infuriated. “Really, Jon? Married women? Is that what you’ve resorted to?”

His face darkened, and he scowled at her. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I’m sure. You were just going to give her a tour of the ship, is that it?” she taunted.

Glowering, he looked away. “Something like that.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Well, don’t let me stop you. I’m sure you can still catch up to her before her husband does.”

Jon looked chastened, carding both hands through his loose hair. “Seven hells, Dany. Can you knock it off? I didn’t—I didn’t mean for you to see that. I wasn’t expecting you—”

For some reason, that hurt even more. “But I was expecting _you_ ,” she said quietly.

Understanding and regret flashed across his face, only to be replaced with frustration. “Expecting me to, what, exactly? Crash your fancy affair with you and your khal boyfriend, and then what?”

Dany huffed. “I expected you to show up and talk to me, like a friend would! That’s it. I haven’t seen you in years, Jon.”

He sneered. “That’s not my fault. You’re the one who left first.” Her mouth parted in wordless shock, and he moved closer to get in her face, a bit unsteady on his feet. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Forgive me for not showing up to your party based on an offhand pity invite. I’m just a bit sick of being places where I’m not wanted.”

Clamping her lips shut, she stared at him in disbelief, then finally shook her head. “I don’t know what happened between you and—and everyone else back home, why you’re so bitter, but you don’t get to take your resentment out on me.” She unfolded her arms and held his gaze, unwavering. “I’m not Margaery.”

He blinked. With that, Dany turned away and continued her brisk walk home.

This time, Jon didn’t follow her.

* * *

Dany and Olenna were taking their regular Sunday brunch in the parlor when an attendant interrupted.

“My lady, there is a gentleman here asking to speak to Miss Daenerys.”

Olenna frowned into her glass of sangria, cutting Dany a look. “A gentleman caller? How curious.” Dany rolled her eyes but said nothing, sipping her freshly squeezed orange juice. Olenna twisted around in her chair. “Well, bring him here.”

The attendant bowed and stepped aside, revealing Jon. He stepped into the parlor, shooting Olenna a reluctant smile. “Good to see you, Lady Olenna.”

For her part, Olenna looked utterly surprised, which rarely happened. “Jon! What in the world are you doing here?” she asked when he approached to place a kiss on her papery cheek.

He grinned boyishly, slipping his hands into his pants pockets. “I’ve got a spot on _Titan's Daughter_. Dany didn’t mention it?”

Olenna glanced back to Dany, her white eyebrow arched pointedly. “No, she didn’t.”

Dany pursed her lips and stared hard at her orange juice. “I didn’t think it was important.”

She didn’t have to look at her grandmother to know just what kind of look she was giving her. At her cutting remark, Jon made a sound of protest. “Ouch. I’m not quite sure I deserved that.”

Suddenly, Dany felt foolish for her petulance, which only made her more cross. She finally looked at Jon, her mouth flattened in a glower. “Well, you didn’t think it was important enough to show up last night when you said you would.”

He sighed. “Look. Can we talk? Alone, please?”

Dany glanced at Olenna, who _hmph_ ’ed. “I suppose that means I’ve been dismissed, then. And in my own home.” Jon and Dany began to object, but she waved them off as she started to stand from the table. “No, no. Don’t you worry about me. I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m getting up there in years or anything. I just hope my legs don’t give out on me. At my age, you never know when your body will fail you,” she said, brushing Jon’s hands aside when he reached for her arm.

At her grandmother’s antics, Dany couldn’t help but smile, hiding it in her cup. Exasperated, Jon waited until the older woman was gone then sat down in the seat she had vacated. “Well, she certainly hasn’t changed,” he remarked wryly.

“She takes her fun where she can find it,” Dany replied. When Jon smiled, she remembered she was upset and averted her gaze. He sighed again.

“Dany. I’m sorry I didn’t come last night. Can you really not forgive me?”

She chewed on her lip. “I’m not upset about last night. Not entirely.” She looked at him imploringly. “I’m upset because you knew I was in Pentos, and you didn’t think to tell me. If I hadn’t run into you by chance, would you have said anything at all?”

He swallowed, dropping his gaze. “I don’t know, honestly.” Her mouth parted in disbelief, and he winced. “I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Embarrassed? Of what?” she asked, perplexed.

Shrugging, he slumped back in his high-backed chair. “I don’t know. When we were younger, I tried so hard to be like everyone else. Like my cousins. Like Robb. I thought I had to be a certain way, for the Starks and the Tyrells to accept me. But...even that wasn’t enough, apparently. So I finally decided to find a different way to be. My own way.”

Dany frowned, not understanding. “And you have. Why would you be embarrassed?”

He met her eyes and huffed out a laugh. “It’s hardly a life of luxury. I live in a cramped cabin on a ship. I have to work to earn my keep, and I often go weeks without a proper bath.”

“You think I care about that?” she asked, and he made a point of glancing around the expansive parlor. Annoyed, she set her cup down. “Jon, do you remember what it was like for me? Before the Tyrells adopted me? I was a penniless street rat, bounced from orphanage to orphanage. I basically lived on the streets of King’s Landing. It was pure, dumb luck Mace and Alerie decided to take me in and care for me, and it’s pure, dumb luck I’m even here in Pentos. I’m not here on some extended vacation. I was here to get an education, so I can do something more with my life, too.”

He lifted his eyebrows, pinning her with a droll look. “And I suppose that _something more_ includes a marriage to the richest man in Pentos.”

She scowled at him. “If you’re insinuating that I came here to bag myself a rich husband, then you can go hang, Jon Snow.”

He held up his hands. “I don’t judge you, Dany. Never. You, more than anyone I know, deserve that kind of life. If it’s what you want.”

She didn’t know what she wanted, not really. Things were simple with Drogo, but she wasn’t sure that she could see herself with him forever. She just didn’t want to have to be dependent on the generosity of others for the rest of her life. She sighed. “Then please don’t ever think I would judge you for doing what you want with your life.”

He held her gaze, and after a moment he smiled slightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you the moment I arrived. Truly. But if it’s any consolation...I’m really glad we ran into each other again. Even if it was pure, dumb luck.”

After a moment, she returned his smile with a small one of her own. “I’ve gotten quite far on luck.”

“I don’t think it’s only luck,” he said, but she shrugged off the compliment. His smile widened into a grin. “So, am I forgiven?”

She pretended to consider it, though she’d never been able to stay mad at him for long, not since they were kids. “Only if you promise to come see me every day until you leave.”

She was mostly joking, but he readily agreed. “Deal.” He stood up and held out his arms, eyebrows raised expectantly. Rolling her eyes, she got to her feet and stepped around the table into his embrace. He squeezed her against his chest. “You might come to regret it, though. I’ll be here for a while.”

She hid her smile in his shoulder, then pulled back, lifting her face. “Jon.” He looked down at her in question, and she wrinkled her nose teasingly. “Surely, you can take a shower now that you’re on land.”

With a laugh, he pushed her away. “Aye, all right. I’ll leave you to your extravagant feast.” He bowed with an exaggerated sweep of his arm, and she huffed in feigned annoyance. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’m holding you to it,” she said, folding her arms over her chest as Jon straightened. At the parlor doors, however, he turned back to her.

“Dany,” he started. The earnestness of his tone gave her pause, but he just smiled at her. “You were right before. You’re not Margaery.”

* * *

Jon returned to Olenna’s manse the following day, much sooner than Daenerys expected.

“I’m actually on my way out to run some errands,” she told him, but he just shrugged.

“I’ll come with you, then.”

She gave him a dubious look. “You want to spend the day at the market?”

He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “Sailors have to eat, too.” When he offered his arm, she took it, and they set off for the market square together. He’d showered recently, she could tell; his curls were still slightly damp, and his beard had been trimmed, his neck shaved. He still smelled of pine and tobacco, but now the scent was cut with soap instead of saltwater. She smiled to herself, wondering if her teasing the day before had struck a nerve.

“Doesn’t Olenna have people to take care of the shopping for her?” Jon asked as they crossed through the city quadrant where Olenna lived, home to the richer residents of Pentos.

Dany laughed. “Yes, but I like doing it. There’s always different vendors at the market, and I love to see what new trinkets they have.”

His face screwed up in thought. “Ah, I remember now. When Robb and I used to go with you and Margaery to the market in Flea Bottom, you wouldn’t move on to the next booth until you’d looked at every single item on the table.” He laughed. “We used to get so frustrated, especially Margaery, because you rarely ended up buying anything. Meanwhile, Robb and I were always loaded down with Margaery’s purchases.”

Dany blushed, keeping her gaze trained ahead. “Well, I wasn’t used to having money at my disposal before then. I just enjoyed looking at pretty things,” she said stiffly.

Jon nudged her side with his elbow, her hand still looped around his arm. “I get it,” he said softly. “You rarely bought anything for yourself, but you were always the best at giving gifts. I remember that, too.”

She smiled reluctantly, returning his look. She had to squint against the sun that backlit him, gilding his black curls with a halo. “I just like making people happy.”

He hummed, eyes squinting. After a moment, he said, “I still remember the locket you gave me.” Blinking, Dany slowed to a stop and cut him a look of alarm.

“What?”

“You gave me a necklace with a locket on it. Years ago. I think you were twelve or thirteen. You’d left it in a box on our front stoop with my name on it.”

Her heart stopped. “I—how did you know—”

“It had a lock of your hair in it, Dany.” He gave her an amused look. “I don’t know anybody else with silver hair.”

She released his arm, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh, my god. No, no, no,” she groaned, and he laughed, puzzled by her reaction.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“That’s so _humiliating_! I’d _completely_ forgotten I did that—” He kept laughing, and she dropped her hands to shove him. “Jon! Stop! It’s not funny!”

“I’m sorry!” He tried to sober up but failed. “It’s _kind of_ funny.”

With a huff, she turned and quickened her pace, but Jon quickly matched her stride. “Can we not talk about it? I’m absolutely mortified right now,” she fretted, her face burning hot. “I didn’t even know you’d ever gotten it—you never mentioned it—”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to say at the time.”

His response made her feel even worse. She’d been such a stupid girl back then, pining away for him in secret, thinking he might one day feel the same about her if she simply bided her time, even though he was three years older than her and certainly never thought about her as anything more than his pesky younger neighbor. Eventually, after no acknowledgement from him about the locket, she’d come to regret the rash gesture. She’d told herself the package had been stolen before he could discover it, which was ultimately for the best. Jon had been in love with Margaery then—all the neighborhood boys had been in love with her, though she’d always shown Jon and Robb preferential treatment—and her sister’s happiness meant more to Dany than some misguided crush.

“I’d rather you not say anything now, OK?” she insisted firmly, and he sighed.

“Dany—”

They were finally at the market, so she cut him off. “Can we just do what we came to do?”

After a tense moment, Jon conceded with a curt nod. “Of course.”

As they reached the first vendor, Dany pasted a bright smile on her face and asked the woman about her wares, feigning interest even though her mind was spinning over Jon’s revelation. For his part, Jon remained quiet as he dutifully followed her from booth to booth. Gradually, he coaxed her into meaningless conversation, offering lighthearted commentary on the merchandise at each table, until, mercifully, her burning humiliation subsided to only faint chagrin, a recollection that only inflicted a mild wince when she thought about it.

So, he knew she’d had a crush on him when they were younger. So what? It wasn’t the end of the world. She would be able to laugh about it. One of these days.

* * *

Jon didn’t visit her the following day, or the day after that, but she told herself it wasn’t about what had happened at the market. She hadn’t really expected him to visit her every day, anyway.

When Jon did show up again, he acted as if nothing had happened, and Dany was more than happy to follow his lead. During his visits, they did little of importance but sit around and talk; sometimes, Olenna joined them. Jon rarely talked about their years in King’s Landing, and about Robb and Margaery less so; Dany wasn’t keen on reliving those days either, lest any more embarrassing stories about herself come up. Instead, she told him about her time in Pentos and her days at uni, and he regaled her with tales at sea and his short stays in Lorath and Braavos. For Olenna’s part, she usually dozed off after a couple glasses of wine.

Thursday was one of Dany’s scheduled market days, but it had been raining all day, so she opted to sit outside on the enclosed balcony to read, lounging on the chaise. With her studies concluded, she didn’t have much to do in Pentos other than idle away hours at the market or reading, when Drogo wasn’t calling upon her, that was. All her uni friends had dispersed upon graduation, back to their hometowns. Dany would have done the same, but with Drogo making insinuations, Olenna thought it best to hang around and wait for him to propose, which she was sure would be any day now. Truthfully, Dany was ready to go home—she’d been away for four years, and Margaery was set to marry soon—but Olenna was the one controlling the purse strings, so she felt obligated to do as she wished.

By late afternoon, Dany was so engrossed in her book that she didn’t hear Jon step out onto the balcony until he flopped down on the chaise next to hers.

“Does the staff here always give guests the third-degree, or is it just that I look particularly unsavory?” he complained, shaking his wet hair out, and she snapped her book shut in surprise.

“Well, your attire does make one think of a pirate,” she mused, and he made a face, looking down at his loose linen shirt, trousers and boots. His thin tunic was almost translucent from the rain, clinging rather indecently to his muscles.

“If I were a pirate, I’d hope I’d have enough gold by now to dress better than this.”

Dany smiled. “Truthfully, I think Olenna told the staff to hassle you for her own amusement.”

He huffed, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back in the chaise. “I always knew that woman hated me.”

“Not true,” Dany laughed.

“Is so. If Margaery _had_ wanted to marry me instead of Robb, I’m convinced Olenna would have kidnapped her and taken _her_ to Pentos instead just to prevent the marriage,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. At the mention of Margaery, Dany looked away. He usually avoided the subject of the engagement. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that he’d ever had feelings for her sister. Maybe he still did. Of course, he still did; he’d traveled all this way just to escape those feelings, hadn’t he?

When she said nothing, Jon glanced her way, seeming to notice the book in her hand for the first time. “What are you reading?” he asked curiously. It was a harmless inquiry, but Dany panicked

“Nothing,” she said, a little too quickly, as she tried to hide the cover under her skirt, which of course only intrigued him more. He sat up with a grin.

“Well, knowing you, I _was_ going to guess something intellectual, like a treatise on the injustice of indentured servitude in the Free Cities or something equally dense, but judging by that guilty look on your face, it’s far more interesting than that. Come on, what is it?” His look turned sly. “Is it something dirty?”

“No!” she insisted, pushing the book behind her, but Jon was too quick, reaching over and shoving his hand behind her back to pluck it out of her fingers. She gasped. “Jon!”

He peered at the unremarkable cover. As he read the title, however, his eyebrows shot up, and he started laughing. “I see. You’re just enjoying some light reading with ‘The Princess and Her Pirate’?” He looked at her then, his eyes twinkling knowingly, and she wanted to curl up and die.

“Purely coincidental,” she said hotly, her stomach swooping as he hummed and began to thumb through the book, stopping to read the pages she had stupidly dog-eared. She stifled a groan. As he skimmed the pages, his eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. She rolled her eyes, in spite of her blush. “Yes, I’m reading smut,” she said bluntly. “What about it?”

He chuckled. “Nothing. I have no complaints.” There was faint amusement on his face as he returned the book to her, and she snatched it away to set it aside, this time out of his reach. She could still feel his eyes on her, but when she looked at him again, he just smiled and changed the subject. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Drogo’s coming over to have dinner with us,” she said, focused on smoothing out a crease in her skirt.

“Ah. And am I invited?”

She speared him with a droll look and asked haughtily, “I don’t know. Would you actually show up?”

He held up his hand, the other pressed over his heart. “I will. I’d like to meet your future husband, anyway.”

Her face fell. “He’s not—he hasn’t proposed yet,” she stressed, not sure why the words _future husband_ sounded so foreboding.

Jon just smiled as he stood up. “He will. He’d be a fool not to.” He made to leave but turned back at the balcony doors to wink at her. “I’ll see you tonight. Enjoy the rest of your book.”

* * *

As promised, Jon returned later, dressed in an outfit more suitable for dinner. He’d arrived before Drogo, and when the attendant announced him, he sketched a customary bow to the lady of the house.

“Now you’re starting to resemble the young man I remember,” Olenna remarked as he entered the sitting room where she and Dany waited. His doublet and jerkin were well worn, but if Olenna’s expression counted for anything, they appeared to pass muster.

Jon joined Dany on the settee. “Glad I finally meet your standards, Olenna.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she muttered, and he just laughed.

“You clean up well,” Dany told him with a smile.

When he met her gaze, she was not prepared for the way his eyes darkened. “Oh? And here I thought you prefered the pirate look,” he said lowly. Her cheeks flared with heat, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He looked her over, mouth creasing in an appreciative way. “You look very pretty,” he said as he reached out to smooth a pleat in her skirt between his thumb and forefinger, then he looked up at her, suppressing a smile. He kept his voice at a murmur so Olenna wouldn’t overhear. “Though, I must admit, I prefer that dress you were wearing that day we first ran into each other.”

At his words, she felt an undeniable tightening in her belly, but there was no time to parse his intention because suddenly the attendant was in the doorway again to announce Drogo’s arrival.

“Good evening,” he said in greeting, thanking the attendant who took his coat. It was way too warm for such a thick coat, but Dany had noticed he always wore more layers than he needed. As if he liked to show off as much of his wardrobe as he could all at once.

“So good to see you, Khal,” Olenna said. She didn’t stand until Drogo offered his hand to help her to her feet. Dany stood to greet him as well. He kissed Olenna’s hand then turned to Dany and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. It was how he normally greeted her, but suddenly Dany felt shy and awkward, aware of Jon eyes boring into her back.

“Hi,” she said, discreetly stepping away from his embrace. Drogo smiled at her.

“Hello, pet. You look fetching.”

He didn’t give her more than a cursory glance, his eyes fixing on Jon next, who had remained seated. Drogo’s eyes narrowed, just barely.

“And who is this?” he asked, a false smile on his face.

Finally, Jon deigned to rise, smiling easily. “I’m Jon. Old family friend.” He held out his hand, and Drogo shook it.

“A pain in my side, more like,” Olenna huffed, but there was fondness in her voice; she always pretended to be more prickly than she actually was. Dany observed the two men side by side, the sight so incongruous it was jarring. The men could not look more different. Drogo was tall and as sturdy as a bulwark, while Jon was slender and moved like the sea he’d spent months sailing on, and gold jewelry and colorful gemstones adorned Drogo from head to toe in an ostentatious display, a stark contrast to Jon’s understated yet effortless look.

“Are you just visiting then?” Drogo asked, eyebrow raised. Jon slipped his hands into his pants pockets.

“I’m in Pentos on a job, so I’ll be here indefinitely,” he said enigmatically.

Skeptical, Drogo frowned. “A job, you say? Are you doing business with the magister?”

Still smiling, Jon shrugged. “Something like that.”

Dany narrowed her eyes at him, but the attendant appeared then. “Dinner is served,” he announced with a bow.

“About bloody time,” Olenna griped. “Drogo, be a dear and help me to the table, won’t you?”

Drogo offered his arm, and together they made their way to the dinner parlor. Once they were out of earshot, Dany turned to Jon, her eyebrow arched. “What?” he asked innocently.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Nothing, I’m just interested to hear about this mysterious work you’re apparently doing on the magister’s behalf.”

He chuckled. “We delivered shipments of wine to him, so technically, I didn’t lie.”

She rolled her eyes, but when he held out his arm, she took it. As they followed the others to the parlor, she stayed close to his side. They were quiet as Drogo and Olenna conversed freely a few paces ahead of them. After a moment, Jon leaned close and said at her ear, “I’m surprised.”

She eyed him warily. “How so?”

“He doesn’t seem like your type.”

Dany jabbed his side with her elbow, and he bit his lip to stifle his grunt of protest. Annoyed, she kept her gaze fixed ahead. “Really? And what is my type, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” he mused. “I guess I just pictured you with someone more... _swashbuckling_ , perhaps?”

She cut him a sharp look, her heart jumping into her throat. “What are you doing?” she demanded in a furious whisper.

He didn’t answer her, however, and then they were in the parlor, being seated around the dinner table. It was a long table, but they clustered around one end; Olenna sat at the head of the table, with Jon on her left, and Dany and Drogo on her right. One attendant poured them each a glass of red wine as two others served the first course. Thankfully, it was only a small gathering, so Olenna had opted for the limited menu of only four courses.

Dutifully, Dany ate each dish, though she suddenly had very little appetite for any of it. She mostly nursed her wine, trying to listen to Olenna and Drogo talk, but her thoughts, and eyes, kept drifting to Jon. For his part, infuriatingly, he avoided her gaze, listening intently to the discussion and interjecting with an occasional remark. Any time Drogo tried to wheedle out of him more information about the nature of his work, Jon tactfully turned the question back on him. Apparently, he’d deduced fairly quickly that Drogo’s favorite topic of choice was himself.

Dany hid her scowl in her wine, not sure why she was feeling so churlish tonight. Something about Drogo and Jon in the same vicinity of each other had her on edge. Normally, she found Drogo charming—most of the time, anyway—but his preoccupation with himself, whether it was about his wealth or his work or his connections, was never more obvious to her than it was in that moment.

He felt threatened by Jon, she realized with lightning clarity. He was trying to assert his dominance. Suddenly, Jon’s elusiveness about his own work made sense.

“Jon is a deckhand on a ship,” she blurted out. The conversation ground to a halt as they all looked at her strangely. She didn’t know what they’d been talking about, but she was sure it had been something completely unrelated to her exclamation. She cleared her throat. “He works on _Titan's Daughter_. It’s a cargo ship that transports goods between ports.”

Drogo blinked rapidly. “Oh?”

Jon’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t say anything as he glared at her across the table. Dany replied for him, “Yes. He gets to sail around the world, seeing new and exciting places.”

“How quaint,” Drogo remarked, his voice dripping with amusement. He smiled condescendingly. “Truthfully, I’ve never cared to leave Pentos. It’s got everything one needs, after all.”

“And how do you know what one needs if you’ve only stayed in one place?” Jon retorted. Olenna sighed and gestured to the attendant who stood at attention near the door.

“Bring the dessert, please. And more wine.”

Drogo just laughed. “I guess, luckily for me, I grew up wanting for nothing.”

“Jon comes from a noble family with a storied history. He could have rested on his laurels, but he decided to make his own way in life,” Dany heard herself saying in his defense. Jon threw her a dark look. She’d meant to help, but it seemed to have backfired.

Drogo held up his wine glass with a patronizing smile. “Well, here’s to making one’s own way,” he toasted and sipped his wine.

Jon sat forward to grab his wine. “It sure beats having to marry for money, at least.”

At his insinuation, Dany felt her face grow hot, and she scowled at him. In return, he smiled bitterly.

“Speaking of,” Drogo said, and everyone looked at him. His smile was smug and sure. When he winked at Dany, her heart stopped. “Once we’re married, pet, you’ll never want for anything, either.”

No one said anything for a beat until Jon lifted his glass in salute. “Here’s to marrying rich, then,” he jeered.

With a scoff, Olenna raised her glass, and half-heartedly Dany did the same. “Finally, we’re talking sense again,” Olenna said.

Drogo chuckled then drained the last of his wine. Mercifully, the dessert arrived at that moment, breaking the tension, and Dany eagerly scarfed down her lemon curd to avoid putting her foot in her mouth again.

* * *

The day after the disastrous dinner with Drogo, Jon came by to visit, but for once Dany wasn’t feeling very receptive to his presence. They hadn’t talked since, not about his strange behavior or Drogo’s ambiguous proposal, and she’d much rather keep it that way.

“I’m rather busy today,” she told him, indicating the pile of correspondences she’d been neglecting for far too long. Margaery and their mother had been sending her harassing letters for weeks now, asking when she’d be back in King’s Landing so they could start planning Margaery’s hen-do before the wedding.

“Dany,” Jon said in a tone that made her look up from her letters. He glanced away toward the window, his expression somber. “ _Titan's_ _Daughter_ is set to leave port soon.”

Carefully, she set her letter aside. “How soon?”

“We leave on Monday.”

“Oh.” That was only three days away. She thought they had more time than that. Suddenly, her lingering irritation with him evaporated. “Where will you be going this time?”

“Tyrosh.”

Dany swallowed. “Well. I hear that’s a nice city.”

He flashed her a crooked smile. “Maybe. Not so nice as Pentos, though.”

She chewed on her lip. “Do you plan to return to King’s Landing anytime soon? For Margaery and Robb’s wedding?”

He winced. “I don’t know. It’s hard to predict my schedule at sea.” He gave her another smile then, but she wasn’t fooled. It was obvious he was still hurting about Margaery’s rejection. His willingness to miss his own cousin’s wedding was proof that he still carried a torch for her.

Crestfallen, Dany wasn’t sure what to say. She mirrored his forced smile. “You will be missed.”

“By you?” he asked, and she clasped her hands together in her lap.

 _I’ve missed you since the moment I left King’s Landing_ , she thought. Instead, she said, “Of course, and by everyone else back home.”

He smiled wryly and glanced away again, brow furrowed in thought. When he looked back to her, his expression was more urgent. “Let’s go out tonight, you and me. A going-away celebration.”

His suggestion surprised her. “Go out where?”

He shrugged. “You’ve been here longer than me. I’m sure you know somewhere fun we can go.”

Raising her eyebrows, she smiled slowly. “Well, there was a place my friends and I used to go dancing—”

“Yes!” He clapped his hands together. “Dancing, let’s do that. Say you’ll go.”

She laughed despite herself. “All right, I’ll go.”

Grinning now, Jon moved toward the door. “I’ll pick you up tonight then. Wear something pretty.”

* * *

Dany took him to her favorite dive, a rather seedy place called Velvet Hills, where she, Irri and Missandei used to go every weekend to let loose after a harrowing week of lectures and exams. She hadn’t been since they’d graduated, but as she walked in, Jon at her side, she was suddenly more excited than she’d been in a long time.

“Have you been here before?” she asked him, raising her voice to be heard over the troupe of musicians playing to the crowd of tipsy dancers. Shaking his head, Jon hunched down to better hear her.

“No. But I love it already,” he said, his gaze sweeping around the room. She didn’t miss the way women looked his way as they cut through to the bar; he was a beautiful man, and no doubt Jon had his fair pick of options. He stayed close to her, his hand on her lower back as she guided him through the crowd. Foolishly, she’d worn the dress he’d said he liked, the one she’d been wearing when they’d run into each other near the harbor. It left her back bare, so his calloused fingers touched her skin, sending a shiver up her spine. He hadn’t said anything when he’d picked her up at Olenna’s house, just looked her up and down with a secretive smile. He’d also ditched his dinner attire for his everyday wear, his curls loose from the more restrained bun he’d worn them in the previous night.

As they waited for their drinks, Jon surveyed their surroundings again. “So, this used to be your regular haunt in your uni days?”

She laughed. “My _uni days_ were only a couple months ago, but yes.”

He grinned at her, his gray eyes dancing. “I would have liked to have seen you, then.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t any different than I am now.”

“You’re different around Drogo,” he said, and she frowned.

“How so?”

He shrugged, taking his ale when the barkeep returned with their drinks. He put some coins in the barkeep’s hand before Dany could fish any money out of her skirt pockets. “I don’t know. You’re very subdued.”

Bemused, Dany tilted her head, wrinkling her nose. “What does that mean?”

Jon shook his head. “He calls you _pet_. Doesn’t sound like a name the Dany I know would be very fond of.”

Her initial response was one of defensiveness, but she knew he was right. Secretly, she hated when Drogo called her that. “It is a bit nauseating, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you tell him that?” he asked.

“I don’t want to disappoint Olenna,” she admitted, and he huffed out a laugh.

“Everyone and everything disappoints that woman,” he retorted, then he held up his ale. “Come on, we’re supposed to be celebrating, not lamenting.”

Grudgingly, she tapped her glass to his, and they drank on cue. Except, she stopped after a few sips, but Jon kept going. She watched in awe and mild horror as he emptied his drink, slamming the glass down on the bar and signaling for another. When he saw her expression, he laughed.

“I need the liquid courage tonight,” he said by way of explanation.

“For what?” she asked, but the barkeep interrupted with another ale.

After paying, Jon took Dany’s hand and nodded to the dance floor. “Let’s dance,” he said, determined.

They joined the throng of writhing bodies gyrating to the jaunty symphony of percussion and strings, keeping to the outskirts of the crowd. The singer crooned in what sounded to Dany’s ears like Ghiscari; she couldn’t understand the words, not really, and she guessed Jon couldn’t either, but he bobbed his head along to the music regardless. At first, Dany felt silly dancing without Irri or Missandei at her side, but she eventually found her confidence, especially once she’d finished her first drink.

After two more drinks, she was beginning to understand what Jon meant by liquid courage. She was rather impressed with his moves; he had more rhythm than she would have guessed, and soon they were dancing together, rather than just near each other, Jon spinning her around and dipping her in his arms. She laughed, not caring even as his antics caused some of her drink to spill down her dress. He twirled her again then pulled her back flush against his chest, cradling her close as they swayed together. Holding his hands as they rested on her hips, she closed her eyes; the music faded then, and all she felt were his hot breaths on her neck, his wild heartbeat at her back.

After a moment, she realized the hard bulge she felt against her arse was his erection. Her eyes snapped open, and a hot flush ignited through her body, a current of awareness pulsing between her legs. Pressing her thighs together, she turned her face toward his.

His nose and mouth nuzzled her cheek, his beard abrading her skin. “Dany,” he murmured, but he didn’t say anything more. She held her breath and waited. Finally, shaking his head, he declared, “I need some fresh air.”

He released her and stepped back, and without his body holding her up, she stumbled slightly. “OK,” she said, confused. “I’m...going to get another drink.”

With an apologetic smile, Jon turned away from her and pushed through the crowd toward the exit. Dazed, Dany made her way to the bar but detoured to the bathroom first. Inside, she splashed some cool water on her flushed face, then headed back to the bar. She posted there for a few minutes, sipping her ale and craning her head around to keep an eye out for Jon. When he didn’t appear after a while, she left her drink behind and went in the direction he’d gone, stepping outside. The night air was a welcome balm on her sweaty skin. She saw Jon standing a ways off, leaning against the side of the building as he smoked.

“That’s not fresh air,” she said as she approached him.

He grimaced sheepishly at her. “It’s a nasty habit, I know.”

“It is,” she agreed, before she plucked the rolled cigarette from his fingers and took a drag, angling her face up to the night sky as she exhaled. When she returned his cigarette to him, he was smiling at her.

“You continue to surprise me,” he murmured as she pulled her hair over her shoulder, peeling away the wet pieces that stuck to her neck with perspiration.

“You surprise me, too.” She leaned against the wall beside him and bumped his shoulder with hers. “I didn’t know you could dance like that.”

Jon chuckled, the cigarette cherry glowing orange as he sucked on the other end. As he blew out the smoke, he demurred. “I can’t. Those are just my sea legs.”

She laughed a bit too loudly at that, and he grinned at her, his eyes slightly glazed over. His hair looked as damp as hers felt, and he’d unbuttoned the top few buttons of his tunic to bare his chest. She bit her lip, watching the way the muscles in his throat flexed as he smoked. She thought about how intimately he’d held her inside, how he’d been obviously aroused as they’d moved together. How he’d pulled away.

“You know,” she heard herself saying, “I don’t think you’re as unaffected as you pretend to be.”

Caught off guard by her observation, he blinked at her. She saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he closed them. “Dany…” He sighed, then leaned close to touch his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes and inhaled, her nostrils stinging from the smoke and the heady mix of his sweat and soap. Foolishly, she lifted her face to his, her trembling lips parted. She felt his mouth part, too, heard his sharp intake of breath, as their lips just barely grazed together, but neither moved, neither taking the plunge.

She couldn’t think straight; the words were out of her mouth before she realized it. “Take me to your cabin,” she declared boldly, and he opened his eyes as she pulled away. Pushing off the wall, she took his hand as he stared at her, incredulous. “I want to see where you live.”

* * *

As they stepped off the ladder onto the second deck of the ship, Jon ducked his head. Dany, however, was too slow to react, smacking her forehead on the overhead. “Ow,” she hissed, and he looked back at her in horror.

“Shit, sorry! I’m so used to it, I forgot to warn you.” He moved close, gingerly touching her forehead. “Damn. That’s gonna leave a mark.”

She winced slightly, as his thumb grazed the tender spot. Despite the pain, she erupted in nervous giggles. “That’ll be fun trying to explain to Olenna tomorrow.”

He started laughing, too, until they were snickering and snorting together. Furtively, he shushed her, motioning for her to be quiet before he led her through a passageway to his cabin. She felt the slight sway of the ship beneath her feet, even though it was docked, but considering how much she’d drank at Velvet Hills, she wasn’t so sure it was just the tide moving in and out of the harbor. She stretched her arms out at her sides as she walked, hands braced against the bulkhead of the narrow passageway to steady herself, and she squinted in the dim light of the lantern Jon held out before him. Her heart was racing.

At the end of the passageway, he stopped before the last cabin to shoulder the door open. Once inside, he hooked the lantern on a nail hammered into the bulkhead as she followed him across the threshold, closing the door behind them. Then she took a moment to survey his cabin. As he’d warned her, it was rather cramped; she could take a few steps in either direction and hit a wall or his bunk.

“I told you it was small,” Jon said, raking a hand through his hair. He was nervous, she realized; for some reason, that made her feel better. She thought of the woman she’d caught him with that first night. Tyanna. He hadn’t seemed nervous with her.

Dany smiled, holding her arms behind her back. “It’s cozy.”

He snorted. “That’s one word for it.” He shrugged and sat down on his trunk. “I like it, though. I found I don’t need much space.”

“Who does, when you have the open sea around you?” she agreed, idly moving around his cabin to inspect his living quarters. He had some books scattered about the floor, some clothes, too. He was as messy as she would have imagined. It was oddly endearing.

Jon was quiet as she looked around. Once she was satisfied, she sat down on his bunk, opposite him. She smoothed her hands over his sheets, a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. This was where he slept—among other things.

She cleared her throat. “Did Tyanna ever get that private tour?” she asked nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze. “Or—anyone else?”

He frowned. It took him a moment to understand, then he made a face. “I’d rather not talk about other women with you, Dany.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m not a child anymore, Jon. I understand you have a certain...appeal with women.”

He barked out a harsh laugh. “What does that mean?”

She ignored his question. “I know you’ve been with other women, probably many—”

“Fucking hell, Dany.” He sighed. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” she asked innocently. He raised an eyebrow.

“Have you _been_ with Drogo yet?” There was an edge to his voice.

She didn’t meet his gaze. “No, I haven’t.” He didn’t immediately respond, indicating his surprise. She added, “I’m not a virgin, though.”

“Oh?” He gripped at the edge of the trunk he sat on, leaning forward slightly. “Who was it, then?”

Dany finally looked him in the eye. “Just a guy I dated at school.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Was it serious?”

She laughed easily. “Not really. We were just having fun.” She looked at him in earnest. “Were you ever serious with anyone?”

He chuffed. “Kind of hard to be, when you’re at sea for weeks on end.”

“But...before?” She licked her dry lips. Her heart was beating wildly now, and she fisted her hands atop his bed, suddenly filled with apprehension. “I mean...did you and Margaery ever…?” He went deathly still, and she knew she had her answer. She didn’t know why she was so surprised, but her heart dropped all the same. “Oh—”

“It was before she was with Robb,” he answered quickly. “It was never serious, we just—shit. Don’t mention it to Robb, OK? I promised her I wouldn’t. It doesn’t mean anything now, anyway. We were just kids, experimenting. It’s not a big deal.”

Dany didn’t know what to say, her head reeling with the revelation. As the silence stretched, Jon grew exasperated. “Dany, you can’t hold that against me.”

“I don’t—I’m just…” Her voice shook, and she chewed on her lip. “It’s just weird.”

“How?” he asked, frustrated, and she shook her head.

“Because it is! She’s my sister, and I…” To her horror, the alcohol she’d consumed was loosening her tongue. “I used to, to _fantasize_ about you, while you were apparently sleeping with her—”

She grimaced, unable to finish the thought, and he hurriedly moved from the trunk to crouch before her. He gripped her knees tightly. “Dany, stop. Don’t do this to yourself. Things were different then. _We’re_ different. You were too young then, and Margaery was just—she was my age.”

“She never mentioned it to me,” Dany said despondently. “I had no idea you two…”

“Probably because it didn’t mean anything to her,” he replied sharply.

“But it meant something to _you_.”

His face reddened, and he let out an irritated breath. “Well—at the time, I suppose I thought it did. Am I supposed to apologize for being naive in my youth?”

“No. Of course not.” She pressed her hand to her flushed face, covering her eyes. God, she was being ridiculous. “Sorry—I always knew—I mean, of course, you fancied her. I don’t know why I feel this way.”

He gave her a moment, rubbing his thumbs in circles over her knees. Gradually, the grip of anxiety eased around her chest. His touch was gentle and reassuring, but even the faint pressure of his hands through her thin skirt made her tremble, once again sending a thread of desire through her. Why was she determined to ruin the moment? This was likely her only chance to have the one thing she’d always wanted most. Just one night, then he would be gone, and who knew when she’d ever see him again?

She took a deep breath and dropped her hand to her lap. Jon was looking up at her, the faint lighting of the lantern throwing shadows across his face. His pupils were large, making his gray eyes look nearly black. A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth then, and her breath caught as he squeezed her knees. His hands inched farther up her thighs before stopping.

“If it means anything now,” he said softly, a suggestive rasp to his voice. “These days, I’ve fantasized about you quite a lot.”

“You have?” she whispered, and his smirk widened. Jon curled his fingers in her skirt, slowly rucking up the material until it was above her knees.

“Aye.”

Heart in her throat, she reached for his face, scratching her fingers through the scruff on his jaw. His eyelids sagged, and she angled his face upward, lowering her mouth to his. He met her eagerly, hungrily, his lip curling in a silent growl before he kissed her. She pulled on his shoulders, urging him into the bunk with her. Jon climbed on top of her, pushing her down against the thin mattress, his body cocooning hers. Her knees came up, falling open as he settled between them, and she gasped into his mouth when he settled his weight against her, his tongue tangling with hers.

“Dany,” he murmured, kissing her again, more sweetly this time as his hand cupped her face, pushing her hair back from her forehead. He was careful to avoid her burgeoning bump. When she felt him slowing, she urged him on, biting at his lips and impatiently pulling at his tunic. Thankfully, he obliged, hunching over her to rip his shirt off over his head. God, he was better than every fantasy she’d ever touched herself to. She ran her hands down his chest appreciatively, feeling his abdomen muscles tense against her fingertips as she reached for his trousers. “Wait,” he cautioned, stilling her hands.

“I don’t want to. I’ve waited long enough,” she said, sounding childish to her own ears, and he laughed huskily.

“Just let me…” He fumbled with her dress, reaching underneath her to undo the closures, then he pulled the straps down her shoulders. Once her breasts were exposed, he kissed them, teasing her with his tongue and his teeth until she was keening, her cunt uncomfortably slick. Their movements had pushed her skirt up her thighs, the material bunched around the bodice, so she reached down to tug at her undergarments.

Jon helped her, and she hiked her knees up to her chest so he could pull them and her sandals off her legs without having to get up from the bunk. Dany reached for his trousers again, unfastening the front, impatiently rubbing his erection through the opening. Breathing roughly, Jon pushed his pants and underwear down his hips, pulling his cock free. Dany couldn’t see much in the dim lantern, but she took him in hand, mapping his hot, silky flesh, and pumping his thick shaft. She felt the pearly drop of cum at his tip and slicked it down his cock.

“Fuck, Dany,” he cursed under his breath, and she squeezed him, urging him closer, pressing him to her cunt.

“I want you,” she begged, pulling on his arse, arching into him. They were hurtling toward the inevitable, but she was too needy and desperate to take it slow. As he pushed into her, Jon kissed her again, and she moaned around his tongue. Her body tensed initially, then instantly relaxed, and he stretched her open wonderfully. Then he was moving inside her, matching the urgent rolling of her hips with punishing strokes of his own.

“Jon!” she cried out, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, and he grabbed her hands, lacing his fingers through hers. He pressed her hands into the pillow, holding his weight above her as he drove into her, hard and fast. Dany wrapped her legs around his hips and lifted against him, holding him close as she ground down on his cock. His mouth was at her ear, and he was whispering things, filthy things, telling her how good she felt, how tight she was, beckoning her to come on his cock. Within seconds, her breath hitched and she was coming, her pleasure spiking sharply in pulsing waves as she shook.

“Oh, fuck, Dany,” he grunted, releasing one of her hands to reach beneath her. Gripping her bare arse cheek in his hand, he held her against him and stroked himself inside her cunt before burying himself to the hilt, spilling inside her. She gasped again, quaking uncontrollably as she pulsed around his cock, their coupling wet and messy. Her orgasm receded before his did; untangling her other hand from his, she cradled his face against her throat and waited for him to catch his breath.

Finally, he lifted his head and, searching her face, kissed her again, languid and slow. He pulled out, his seed trickling out of her, and he shifted onto the bunk beside her so she could stretch her legs out. Sleepily, she rolled into him, wriggling her arms around him, and he did the same, holding her close. Despite the cramped confines of his bunk, his warmth was comforting and reassuring, and his breathing quickly lulled her into a deep sleep.

* * *

Dany was abruptly awoken by the sounds of men yelling abovedeck, the thud of their steps over head unreasonably loud. Wincing, she peeled her eyes open with some difficulty. The cabin was relatively dark still, the oil lamp having sputtered out at some point in the night, but gray light filtered in through a small porthole. Next to her, Jon snored lightly as he slept, his arm thrown across his face. He was shirtless, but he must have pulled his pants back up at some point after she’d fallen asleep.

Slowly, the gravity of what she had done dawned on her, filling her with dismay.

Quietly, she sat up, trying not to disturb Jon as she pulled up the bodice of her dress to cover her breasts. She wriggled her arms into the straps, but her hands were shaking too badly to fasten all the closures in the back. Her breathing grew labored, panic setting in. Tumbling out of his bunk, she sank to her knees to search for her underwear in the dim cabin.

“Dany?”

She jerked her head up to find Jon awake and sitting up on his elbow, squinting at her blearily. “I have to go,” she whispered tremulously. Finding her underwear by the trunk, she got to her feet and pulled them up under her dress before scrounging around for her sandals next.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up fully and sliding to the edge of the bed. “Slow down—”

“Olenna will be wondering where I am,” Dany rambled, talking over him. “She must be worried sick, or—furious, most likely.”

“Tell her you were with me,” he said, unconcerned, and she looked at him in disbelief.

“I can’t tell her that.”

“So, you’re just going to lie to her then?” he asked, vexed. She jammed her feet into her sandals then scrubbed a hand across her face. Her stomach was in knots, making her feel nauseous; the gentle rocking of the ship wasn’t helping.

“I don’t know what I’m going to tell her. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have come here. It was a mistake.”

Jon reared back as if she’d slapped him. “A _mistake_?”

She swallowed against the sick inching up her throat, finding it hard to catch her breath. “Yes—I was being selfish last night. I wasn’t thinking about Drogo—”

His expression turned tumultuous, and she winced. “What does Drogo have to do with you and me?”

Dany gaped at him. “Jon, he wants to _marry_ me—”

“He hasn’t proposed yet,” he sneered, throwing her own words back at her. She couldn’t look at him.

“Maybe not officially, but he’s made his intentions clear—”

“Do you even like the man, Dany?” Jon demanded, and she closed her eyes, blood rushing in her ears.

“That’s not the point right now,” she replied faintly.

“Of course it is!” he growled. “You’re talking about marrying him, but you look forward to the prospect with about as much enthusiasm as if getting a root canal!”

Desperately, she shook her head. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go, I have to get home—”

As she made for the door, Jon shot off the bed to grab her arm, turning her back around to him. “Don’t marry him, Dany,” he pleaded, and she looked at him in disbelief.

“Why not?”

His expression turned pitying. “Because you don’t love him. Because he’s not who you would choose for yourself.”

Embarrassed by his assessment, she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and glared at him. “And so what if I don’t? Some of us don’t have the luxury of waiting around for someone to love us the way that we love them,” she snapped, her face burning in shame.

His jaw ticked, and he stared at her with deadly seriousness. “All right. Don’t marry him—not because you don’t love him, but because you love _me_ , the way that I love you.” Her heart stopped, and he took a deep breath, reaching for her hands. “Dany—”

Her vision blurred as tears rushed to her eyes. “No.” He blinked, and she slowly shook her head, pulling her hands free. “No.”

Frowning, Jon reached for her again. “Dany—”

She slapped his hands away, stepping out of his reach. “Don’t. Don’t you _dare_.” Her chest constricted, and she gasped for air, trying to blink back the tears. “That’s mean. You’re being mean—”

Bewildered, he moved toward her. “What? How am I being mean?” When she pushed him away again, he let out a sound of frustration. “Damn it, Dany! Why are you doing this?”

“Because you don’t love me!” she yelled angrily. Her tears spilled freely down her cheeks, and she swiped at them, furious at herself for crying, furious at him for his heartless, flippant declaration. “You love Margaery, you always have, and I won’t be the person you settle for _now_ just because you can’t have her! Not when I—” Her voice caught, and she pushed the words out. “Not when I’ve been in love with you since I was ten years old. I won’t be your consolation prize. I can’t do it. I _won’t_.”

He stared at her, speechless, but it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to hear any more false words. Turning around, she flung the door open and fled from his cabin, wiping uselessly at her eyes as tears streamed down her face. Hurrying down the passageway, she bowled past another sailor as he came out of his cabin.

“Oi!” he called after her in surprise, then started laughing. “Miss, wait! You haven’t even finished dressing!”

“Oh, fuck off!” she yelled over her shoulder as she scrambled up the ladder to the main deck. Behind her, she heard Jon’s distant shout as he yelled something nasty at his crewmate, but she couldn’t make out his words. Hurriedly, she climbed over the side of the ship and jumped down to the dock. Her skirts tangled around her legs, causing her to trip and stumble onto her hands and knees. Kind dockhands rushed over to offer their help, but she brushed them aside. Getting to her feet, she scurried away from the harbor without a second glance back, until she was all but running back to Olenna’s manse.

* * *

Dany was folding one of her favorite dresses to put in her satchel when she was interrupted by a timid knock on her door. She looked up, expecting Olenna or one of the attendants, but she was startled to find Jon standing in the open doorway of her room. He lifted his hand in an uncertain wave.

For a tense moment neither of them spoke. Dany clutched her dress to her chest, unsure what to do. It’d been two days since she’d run out of his cabin. Just the sight of him brought on an onslaught of illicit memories and images that made her flush with longing and regret.

Finally, Jon spoke, breaking their silent standoff. “May I come in?” he asked.

Turning away, Dany nodded curtly and resumed the task of packing her satchel. “I assume if you made it this far, Olenna knows you’re here,” she said, carefully tucking her dress on top of her other clothes.

“She does. She only threatened mild bodily harm upon seeing me, so I took it as an encouraging sign,” he answered.

Dany shook her head as she folded another dress. “She and I already had it out yesterday, so that probably accounts for her more resigned demeanor today.” They’d had it out as much as Olenna was capable of, in any case; she wasn’t the type to rage and bluster at someone. Why would she, when she could cut to the core quicker with just one well-placed barb?

When Dany had returned from the harbor, Olenna had been waiting for her. She’d greeted her with such a withering look, Dany knew her grandmother had already guessed everything, where she’d been and what she’d been doing. Ashamed, she’d wanted to throw herself at her grandmother’s feet and beg for forgiveness, but she hadn’t. Despite her trepidation, she’d sat down and calmly explained everything. By the end, Olenna had just sighed her grandmotherly sigh of disappointment and said, “I always knew that boy was trouble.” All things considered, it was the best Dany could have hoped for.

Jon was quiet behind her as he considered her words. “Is that why you’re packing?” he asked hesitantly. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Do you mean is she kicking me out for being a wanton hussy?” Huffing, she turned back to her satchel and stuffed the dress inside. “No. But we are leaving. Back to King’s Landing.”

“You are?” She could hear the sudden alarm in his voice. “But—what about Drogo?”

She closed her satchel with care, more focused than she needed to be for such a simple task. “I broke things off with him yesterday. I can’t very well lecture you about settling, then turn around and do the same.” It had been Olenna’s one condition; Dany had to break up with Drogo in person and at once. Truthfully, it had been easier than her conversation with Olenna had been, though he’d understandably taken it worse; he’d told her in no uncertain terms she and her grandmother were to take the next ship out of Pentos.

Dany continued matter-of-factly, “You were right. I don’t love him, and I shouldn’t marry someone out of some misplaced sense of obligation just to please my grandmother.”

There was a stunned beat of silence. “You’re not marrying him?”

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Jon, her hands clutched together before her to stop their trembling. “No, I’m not marrying him. And it’s not because of the other night, not completely, so we don’t have to talk about it or—” She stopped when she realized he was grinning. “What?”

“Nothing.” He scrubbed a hand across his mouth, trying to contain his smile, and failing. “Dany.” Awed, he shook his head to himself but said nothing more.

Suddenly, it hit her. “What are you still doing here? Isn’t _Titan's Daughter_ supposed to leave today?”

“Oh, it’s already gone,” he said dismissively, and her mouth dropped open.

“What?”

“It left this morning.” He shrugged. “I quit the crew.”

Aghast, she stared at him. “But...why?”

He smiled, crossing the room to her. She didn’t move a muscle. “Because I had all these grand plans of staying here to woo you. To convince you that you should marry me instead.” She opened her mouth to object, and he held up his hand to stop her. “Wait. Please. Just hear me out first, before you say anything.” Taking a deep breath, he regarded her earnestly. “Yes, years ago, I wanted to marry Margaery. I thought I loved her. But...now I know what I felt for her, it’s not the same. What I feel for you is different. Bigger. And, quite frankly, scarier. But also exciting and exhilarating and real. Lately, I can’t think about anyone or anything but you, and the thought of you with someone else makes me absolutely ill, Dany. It makes me want to fight for you, for us, in a way I was never willing to do before, not with anyone.” He held her gaze. “I love you, Dany. Only you.”

Dany looked away, pressure building behind her eyes. She swallowed convulsively. “I...I want to believe that, but...I don’t know how to. I’m afraid l’ll always feel like I’m competing with your memory of her.”

He didn’t say anything, just reached into his pocket to pull something out. When she looked back to him, he held out his hand to her. Nestled in his palm was a locket, the long chain dangling between his fingers. It was the locket she’d given him.

Her lips parted in silent wonder, and she looked at him, shocked. “You kept it?”

His smile widened. “Of course, I did.” He pressed the latch on the side and gingerly pried it open with his fingers. Dany covered her mouth. Inside, was a small lock of silver hair, her silver hair, bound by a tiny, red ribbon.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, equal parts awed and embarrassed. “I can’t believe you still have it…”

Carefully closing it, he pressed his thumb to the face of the locket. “I couldn’t just throw it away, Dany. It was a gift from you. At the time, I just thought of it as a sweet memento. At that age, it was nice to be thought of in that way by somebody. A nice reminder in some of my darker moments that someone loved me.” He caressed the locket fondly. “When I was away at sea, I found myself pulling it out often.” A smile flickered across his face. “Even wore it sometimes, especially during the really violent storms when I was sure I was going to die. It was like a good luck talisman, I guess. It made me feel safe. It made me think of home.”

Dany bit her lip hard as her tears slipped down her cheeks. This time, she didn’t pull away when Jon reached for her face, wiping the tears away with his thumb. “It made me think of you, Dany. When I think of you, I think of home, and that day I saw you on the street, I finally got it. You’re not a consolation prize. You’re not my second choice. You’re my ultimate choice. You’re home for me, and I will spend however long it takes to prove to you that I love you—”

She kissed him, stilling the words on his tongue, and his arms came up to hold her close. She could taste the salt of her tears on his lips, sweetened by his words. After a moment, she pulled away to peer up at him. “I love you, too,” she told him breathlessly.

He laughed happily. “I know.” When she opened her mouth, he pressed his finger against her lips to silence her retort. His smile was radiant. “You figured it out before me. It just took me a little bit longer to realize that I feel the same.”


End file.
